


Home Is the Hunter

by enigmaticblue



Category: Leverage
Genre: Domestic, F/M, Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-05
Updated: 2014-11-05
Packaged: 2018-02-24 03:59:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 817
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2567420
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/enigmaticblue/pseuds/enigmaticblue
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It’s the quiet moments in between jobs that Eliot likes best.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Home Is the Hunter

**Author's Note:**

  * For [eurydice72](https://archiveofourown.org/users/eurydice72/gifts).



> Written for eurydice72, who wanted Eliot in a quiet moment.

Eliot had been eighteen when he’d signed his life over to Uncle Sam, too young and dumb and green to know what he was getting himself into, or to have any idea of what he might lose.

 

He’d been too young to know that innocence was a thing to hang onto, or to know what it felt like to take a person’s life, and have that death weigh heavy on your mind. He hadn’t known what it was like to look in the mirror and see someone you’d come to hate.

 

He knows all those things now. That green kid with a flag on his chest and a song in his heart had died somewhere along the way, and Eliot knows he ain’t never coming back.

 

But another thing that green kid hadn’t known was that there was strength in survival, there was power in redemption, and there was a family that ran deeper than blood.

 

So, Eliot doesn’t really miss that green kid anymore, not while he has a couple more to look out for. If he couldn’t save his own innocence, he can safeguard someone else’s.

 

He hums under his breath as he chops the chives for the mini scones to go along with the lamb stew simmering on the stove. Parker and Hardison are arguing quietly over something, but the tone is playful, rather than serious, and it’s mostly background noise.

 

Neither of them had offered to help, but then, that’s the way Eliot likes it. The kitchen is _his_ domain, especially now, after a long, involved case that had been resolved successfully, but not without difficulty.

 

Eliot’s shoulder aches from where he’d landed on it wrong, and he figures he’ll need at least a week to let it heal.

 

Laughter follows the argument, and Eliot smiles as he dumps the chives in the food processor, gradually adding in the buttermilk while pulsing until the sticky dough forms.

 

“You sure you don’t need anything?” Hardison asks. “I could get you another beer.”

 

Eliot considers it. He’d finished off the half bottle of Guinness he had left after putting the stew together, and he’s feeling relaxed. Then again, it’s not like he has anywhere else to be, so he says, “Yeah, thanks.”

 

The mini scones go in the oven, and Eliot throws in the peas and pearl onions into the pot before accepting the bottle from Hardison.

 

“How’s the shoulder?” Hardison asks.

 

It’s a question that Nate would have asked, or maybe Sophie, before the two of them had taken off on their own. Parker will ask those sorts of questions when she’s mission-focused, and she needs everyone sharp, but between the two of them, Hardison is the people person.

 

That’s one of the reasons they work so well together.

 

“Sore, but I’ll live,” Eliot replies.

 

Hardison punches him in his good shoulder. “Good. Couldn’t do without you, man.”

 

“You mean you couldn’t cook dinner without me,” Eliot counters, but he says it with a smile.

 

“Never pretended to be able to cook,” Hardison says, “And you know Parker’s version of cooking is pouring cereal into a bowl.”

 

Eliot grimaces. “Yeah, I figured that out.”

 

“Thanks,” Hardison says with disarming sincerity. “It’ll be good to have everybody together again, and it wouldn’t be the same without your cooking.”

 

“You’re just saying that because you don’t want to cook,” Eliot replies, but he doesn’t mind.

 

Cooking relaxes him, and cooking for his erstwhile family grounds him in a way he can’t explain. After so many years, Eliot has a place to call home, and people to call family, and it’s good.

 

The intercom chimes, and Parker buzzes them up. Eliot uncorks a bottle of red wine and pulls out a bottle of the same Irish stout he’d used in the stew.

 

“Something smells delicious,” Sophie calls when she enters the apartment that Parker and Hardison share, and that also doubles as headquarters.

 

Eliot doesn’t shit where he eats, thank you very much, so he has his own place.

 

“That’s Eliot,” Nate says, and he’s tanned and looks completely relaxed, unwound for the first time since Eliot had met him. “Looking good, guys.”

 

There are hugs all around, even from Parker, who usually needs to be medicated to display affection.

 

And while Eliot is content when it’s just the three of them, he can’t help but feel that things are better when all five of them are together.

 

They’re a family, even if an unconventional one, and Eliot honestly feels a little more settled with everybody here.

 

And when everyone has seconds of the stew, and finishes off the scones, he feels a quiet sense of accomplishment that has nothing to do with his day job.

 

It just feels good to have everyone here, eating his food, and acting like a family again. Or maybe it’s _still_ , because they’ve never stopped being connected.

 

And they never will.


End file.
